Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Nicaragua and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Mummies to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Symarip,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sight & Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
Essential Logic,
X-102,
Marvin Gaye,
Minny Pops,
Sonny Sharrock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Erykah Badu,
Pierre Henry,
The Busters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marc Almond,
The Happenings,
Maurizio,
The Stooges,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Heaven 17,
Country Joe & The Fish,
K-Klass,
Zapp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
cv313,
DNA,
Second Layer,
Cal Tjader,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Byrd,
Roxy Music,
Ultravox,
Donald Byrd,
Schoolly D,
Lyres,
The Searchers,
Johnny Clarke,
F. McDonald,
Stereo Dub,
The Real Kids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Circle Jerks,
Urselle,
Moebius,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
B.T. Express,
Severed Heads,
R.M.O.,
the Soft Cell,
The Move,
Y Pants,
Kaleidoscope,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.